I grumbled in frustration as I smothered on a layer of bright crimson-red lipstick, while unavoidably smearing it on my cheek or accidentally getting it on my teeth. I had watched thousands of tutorials on applying lipstick; it's not as easy as it looks. All the women in the videos had the most perfect and plump lips. They made it look so simple. No smearing, no mess, nothing. It seemed so easy, but I had gotten ahead of myself.
In the end, I decided to just screw it and go without the lipstick. If I kept trying (and failing) I was going to end up late for my date.
I kept my makeup simple, just nude colors and my signature eyeliner that I had practiced and perfected ever since I began wearing it.
I honestly hated dressing up, but Patrick had promised me that this was the only formal date he was going to make me go to. He made a true promise that we were going to dress casual for dates after tonight.
I didn't have many nice clothes; mainly casual tops, shorts, and t-shirts. Mostly bummy clothes, if you will. I started to panic, my eyes scaling the closets and drawers for something- but then I remembered the black maxi dress Andy had bought me. I tried to remember where I had put the thing. It wasn't in any of my closets. I burst through the door, scrambling through everyone's closets. I wasn't sure why I was searching through the closets in bedrooms that weren't mine, but I was pretty panicked. At this point, it was almost time to leave and I was still wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants.
"What are you looking for?" Pete asked. He was leaning against the doorframe of his room, his eyes following the path of my pace.
"You remember that black dress Andy bought me as a get-well present? Well, I can't find it anywhere!"
Pete pressed his lips together in a thin line, nodded, then jabbed his thumb in the direction of the living room. "It's on the couch. Along with your guitar and shit." He winked and I thanked him before scooping up the dress, peeling off my ratty clothes that were probably several days old, rubbing on some deodorant, and stepping into the dress. It was a perfect fit, and framed my body, outlining all of my curves. It made me look like some kind of tall, elegant supermodel. The only problem was that it was strapless, revealing all the slits on my arms.
I could not go into a fancy restaurant like the one we were going to while exhibiting my scars for everyone to gape at. I dug through my closet, hoping to find something I could cover my arms with.
To my relief, I was able to come across a denim jacket that was long enough to conceal my arms and also went well with my dress.
I smiled, examining myself in the mirror. I was finally confident enough to say that I looked beautiful in my own way. My outfit was aesthetic, and I couldn't wait to show Patrick.
"Melanie?" I jumped in surprise at the sudden knock on the door.
"Don't fuck anything up," I muttered under my breath before opening the door.
Patrick's eyes boggled immediately at my appearance. I couldn't help but notice his eyes raking up and down my body, but I didn't mind. He opened his mouth, uttered a small nonhuman sound, like he wasn't sure what was right to say.
"Wow," he managed to blurt out. "You... you look really.... beautiful."
A smile possessed my lips. "Thanks, you look nice too." Patrick was dressed to the nines, with a tuxedo that I recognized from his Soul Punk era, a cobalt blue bow tie, and I couldn't help but notice a rose tucked in his pocket. His hair was brushed back a little, just the slightest bit messy, but I couldn't lie- he looked absolutely adorable.
"Well," he sighed, a smile plastered on his face, "Are you all ready to go?" I nodded and reached for his hand. He interlocked it with his and helped me out to the car.
"What do you wanna listen to?" he asked as he rotated the key in the ignition.
"Whatever you have on is fine, I don't mind."
He grinned. "Okay, I hope you like Twenty One Pilots, 'cause that's what we're listening to."
I gasped. "Are you kidding? I love them!"
He chuckled. "Good." The whole way there, we just screamed lyrics, Patrick barely able to keep his eyes focused on the road. But because he was a good driver, I trusted him.
When we arrived just out of town, we found ourselves isolated in a traffic jam. I couldn't see where it began or where it ended.
Based on my past experiences, I knew it was typical L.A. traffic.
I was able to distract myself on my phone for a few minutes while we very slowly moved forward, the car rolling slowly, then halting before we slammed into the car in front of us.
"I hate traffic," Patrick grumbled, drumming his fingertips on the leather surface of the steering wheel, tapping out an complex rhythm. "Oh, I've got an idea!"
"What's that?" I asked as I propped my elbow up against the window.
"We could.... sing something. To pass the time?"
His eyes pierced me, laced with wonder and excitement, my image distorted in his emerald eyes. "Yeah, sure," I replied. "What do you want to sing?"
"It's up to you, I'm cool with whatever you wanna do."
I smirked. "Well, alright... I want to sing Allie."
He gaped at me. "Allie? B-by me?" I nodded, smiling.
He pressed his lips together. "Oh, boy... I haven't sang that song in forever..."
"It's okay, I'll start," I told him. I blew out a short puff of air, going over the beginning shortly in my head before I began. I had listened to the song earlier today, so it was well engraved into my mind.
"Whenever you find it, it's none of my business. Now, wherever you go, go, go, it's not my concern. But for a second, your attention just belonged to me. And it passed for fast it just fractured all my cool."
I was sure it was interesting for Patrick to witness someone singing the song that he wrote himself and sang best. He was beaming at me during that entire first verse, I couldn't help but return the favor. He seemed like he was starting to remember the lyrics, and soon enough, he joined me.
"I'm not broken hearted, I'm just kinda pissed off. 'Cause Allie I was so good back then. But I wonder if I'd be so good if I saw you again. Listen miss, you've got me, you should've taught me such naughty things, you should have taught me such naughty things, oh you could've taught me such naughty things."
Patrick's focus became engulfed by the song, he hardly noticed the moving traffic ahead. But he never stopped singing. He seemed so happy. He seemed like he forgetting about all the wrong, and only focusing on what was right, right at this moment. He reminded me of the first laugh of a child, so pure, the sound so crisp. It completely warmed your heart, and you felt the same happiness in every inch of your body.
We sang song after song as we drove. Patrick even taught me a couple of helpful vocal exercises and taught me a song or two that he liked. Strangely, I almost wanted to sit in the car all night and sing with him. It was so de-stressing and comforting.
But we arrived at the restaurant eventually.
Only to find it closed.
"Well, shit," Patrick huffed, climbing back into the car after running towards the door to only be greeted by the "closed" sign placed on the double glass doors. "What now?"
"I don't know. Didn't you make reservations?"
He froze and chewed his lip, staring at the ground as he twiddled his thumbs. "Uh, no..." he said quietly, his words about unaudible. His expression flooded itself with guilt, and though night had long fallen, I could tell he was blushing furiously. "I'm really sorry."
"No, don't worry about it! It's alright. We can find somewhere else." I patted him comfortingly on the shoulder. In a way I was relieved that we weren't going to be eating here tonight. It seemed like quite the stressor. I feared I wouldn't be able to focus on having a good time with Patrick and would give more effort in trying to relax around a large room full of people who more native to the area and were more accustomed to that kind of atmosphere.
Patrick sighed dramatically. "Yeah, but the next nice restaurant is like, an hour and a half away."
"I didn't say it had to be a nice restaurant," I shrugged, buckling myself back in.
"So, you don't care where we go?" he asked with wholesome surprise. I shook my head.
"Nope. We could go to a cheap burger place for all I care."
He grinned. "I'd rather have it that way, actually. I hate expensive restaurants. So," he started up the car engine, "To In-n-Out Burger we go!"
When you put it into perspective, the night went way better than I had expected. We bought a dinner of delicious cheese burgers and fries and drove ourselves to the drive-in theater, watched the second half of the horror movie they were already showing, took a long walk in the park, then drove home.
So, all in all, I was satisfied.
I had expected your "average cliche dinner and movie" date, brought to a close by an awkward goodbye hug, and I couldn't be more happy that it turned out different.
"Well, that was fun," I sighed, collapsing on the couch next to Patrick, my long black dress replaced with my leggings and hoodie.
"I'm glad you liked it. I feel kinda bad.... I should've been more prepared."
"No, it was fun. It was quite the adventure."
"Alright," he chuckled. "Good. We'll do it again soon, then."
I stretched, letting out some inhuman noise as I did so before standing up and straightening out my hoodie. "I'm gonna turn in for the night. I'll see you tomorrow."
Do it! He deserves it!
For once, I believed my mind was telling me to do the right thing. So, to Patrick's surprise, I planted a soft kiss on his lips before leaving the room, never turning to see the shock and happiness on his face.
I collapsed on my bed, looking to my side to see the unused razor resting on the pillow. Grabbing it quickly, I hid it under the bed. I had no reason to use it tonight, and the idea of that made me smile.